Make a Wish
by mellode
Summary: Ficlet collection based on Alanna taking Kel in as a child.  5/ "Then you haven't been listening." Ilane almost smiles, her first in days. "She wants to become Lady Knight Keladry, not Sir Keladry."
1. Painting Set

**Title**: Painting Set  
**Word Count**: 398  
**Rating**: K+  
**Characters**: Kel, Thom, a fat bee  
**Summary**: It's a burgundy whip. Really.

**Disclaimer**: _Protector of the Small_ – not mine. Tamora Pierce's. It's better that way. :D  
**Notes**: Drabble collection/thing. Because those are awesome. Centered on the (very vague, very strange) idea of Alanna taking Kel in when she was young. See? Vague. :D The gaps will get filled in. Eventually. I think.

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**Painting Set**

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"_Burgundy. _Bur-gun-_dy_."

"Idiot. I-di-_ot_."

There's silence. The boy scrunches his nose (either from the words or from that _fat_ bee buzzing around) and sends his brilliant red hair flying all around. "It's burgundy."

The girl sits up, legs crossed like a boy's (she's no pretty girly-girl, she's a lioness-in-the-making thank you very much), and stares at the sky where the subject of their debate awaits. It's some sort of cloud—Thom knows the name; she could care less—and it's thin and weird and they've never really seen it before.

It reminds Kel of horses and whips and Thom calls it a burgundy whip against the paling sky.

"I think," she says, chin propped by a hand, "that you were never _ever_ meant to be a knight. At all."

Thom snorts. He rather looks like a frog prepped for dissection, eagle-spread like that, but Kel makes no comment. "Then it's just as well we have you, oh great Lady Knight Keladry. Where _would_ the world be without you?"

"Stuck with fools like you." Kel offers him a beaming grin and leans out of the way when he shoots out a too-slow arm. He grumbles (like an old man) and the arm flops back down.

She stands, hands clasped behind her and loose strands of hair tickle her face. She's loath to admit it, but that one trailing cloud in the sky does resemble a burgundy whip—but the sky isn't pale, it's ready for a new beginning. (But Kel would never admit that to Thom because the boy's head is too big to begin with.)

They're eight and seven, too young in Kel's opinion and too old in Thom's, and the world is out there. Waiting. And Kel's waiting for that sign, that _some_thing that will shove it in her face, make it clear to her that she's gonna be a _somebody_, not just some girl who got picked up by the hot-tempered Lioness on a whim. Thom thinks she's a dork, that she should be missing her family who's off with the freaky Yamani.

The Lioness had told her that waiting was useless. That she'd be better off spending her time learning all she could before get shipped to the palace.

"I'm going to miss this, Thom."

And because they're kids and foolish and all sorts of other things, all Thom retorts is: "You old lady."


	2. imaginary throne

**Title**: imaginary throne  
**Word Count**: 611  
**Rating**: K+  
**Characters**: Aly  
**Summary**: Aly is understandably not-jealous.

**Disclaimer**: _Protector of the Small_ – not mine. Tamora Pierce's.  
**Notes**: I don't really remember the content of the _Trickster_ books so Aly probably won't sound like Aly. Also: made a very minor change to the previous drabble; changed 'parents' to 'family in the Isles' to match this one. And as a heads-up, nothing is really chronological. Kel's about seven here, eight in the previous one. It'll jump around a lot. Annndd thanks to everyone who reviewed/etc. :D

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**imaginary throne**

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It's not like she _hates_ Kel.

She doesn't. Really. She's just a bit not-jealous (because getting jealous is _baaaad_, it makes you green her daddy said and Aly doesn't want to be green).

Kel is older (but not by much, as Aly likes to remind anyone who will listen) and because Kel is older Thom likes to play with her more. Alan becomes her shadow as the Lioness teaches Kel the rules of the palace and the rules of running with the boys (among other things, the ones that send Alan scrambling back with a flushed face).

Her daddy is the only sane one left but that's only because the Lioness keeps Kel far, far away from him. She doesn't like the speculative look in his eyes when he sees Kel and her plainness. The girl is meant to be a knight (three years and she hasn't said a word of giving up; that's got to mean _something_) and not another one of George's spies. The Lioness plans to keep it that way.

Aly pouts. She's not _angry_, she's not. It's just that her mother is rarely home and when she is _all_ of her time is spent on Keladry of Mindelan. (The bedtime stories just for her and Alan are ignored; she's a mother, that's her _minimum_ requirement.)

And there is a worse-er part.

She's _nice_ and _polite_ (the Lioness calls it having no personality) but the fact doesn't change that Kel hasn't _done_ anything to Aly. It probably doesn't help that Aly does everything possible to stay away from Kel, but _still_ it's not normal to be so quiet all the time. The girl's family is in the Isles; apparently that means Kel has adopted their ways across an ocean too. (Or, suggests a snide little voice, she could just be shy, you know, being away from home and her mother being—)

Aly stares out the window, where her own mother's gleaming hair is a beacon. Beside her is Kel, on the grass with mud streaked over her face, and Alan is hovering around the Lioness's left knee. They're normal, these 'lessons': one before lunch, one before dinner, and if the Lioness is sticking around for more than a few days then it'll continue into the night.

(There are no morning sessions; Alanna figures Kel can suffer through those alone at the palace.)

Sometimes Aly is rather glad she doesn't want to be a knight. The work is rough and tedious and codes are so much better than tumbling around in the dirt. But the Lioness prefers the latter (and how _did_ her parents end up together in the first place?) and by extension Aly tries to show an interest.

It's just hard when the competition lives with you. And when the competition unknowingly hogs _every _second of the Lioness's time.

But Aly is a kind (pitying, actually, because she's only four) not-jealous person and doesn't fuss too much. The Lioness remains _Aly's_ mother, not Kel's, and that little thought drags Aly away from the window and towards the vague direction of her father's office.

She's not not-jealous today. Today Alianne of Pirate's Swoop is a caring, generous noble (her nose wrinkles but she plows on) and doesn't mind loaning out her mother. Kel's not a replacement—it's more the other way around, George had once said. Though picking the Lioness as a surrogate mother was just a _bit_ suicidal in his humble opinion.

(Tomorrow, though, tomorrow will be a good day to throw a tantrum, a big one that will need her mother and not Maude because Alianne is still only four and more pitying than kind.)


	3. Melody

**Title**: Melody  
**Word Count**: 764  
**Rating**: T  
**Characters**: Kel, Alanna  
**Summary**: Alanna regrets, just a bit.

**Disclaimer**: _Protector of the Small_ – not mine. Tamora Pierce's.  
**Notes**: Kel is…ten-ish. Takes place after the Immortals War but before she actually applies to be a page and her family arrives from the Isles. I actually don't like this one; it feels…all over the place. Eh. Hope you enjoy =D

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**Melody**

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"You can still change your mind."

"I know."

It's one of those rare days when the fief is silent, save for the chirping of bugs and birds, and Alanna wonders.

Wonders how far childlike curiosity can take a person; wonders if this girl can take the burden no one has touched for ten years (but in much simpler words, of course: she's not one for dramatics when facts will do).

Kel is strong. Alanna knows that—has seen that strength grow over these past six years but strength alone doesn't make a knight. There are other things, things that worry Alanna sleepless, but she can't say a damn _word_ because it wouldn't be _fair_ and Alanna does mind some of the rules of knighthood.

"You're still young…" The words taste strange on her tongue, like that one streak of blue in the orange sky. No one told Alanna she was young because no one had known. And in some far off, seldom visited corner of her mind Alanna thinks that Kel is much older than anyone cares to realize.

There is a certain broadness to Kel's shoulders; it's apparent when she shrugs, her tunic moving restlessly. "I've lasted six years, sir. I think I've another six in me at least."

Sir. Ma'am. My lady. Distance, and Alanna sighs but doesn't reach out to Kel. It's a bit too late for that so she just leans back on her hands, head titled upwards. "It's not…it's different," she says finally. "There's familiarity here; you'll be alone there, and Roald is different from his father. He won't jump to your rescue just because you've met him a few times."

"I know." Kel shrugs again, draws her knees to her chest and sets her chin on top of them. A stalk of grass is twirled between her calloused fingers. "It will be scary. I'm scared."

And the way she says it—plain as day—makes Alanna laugh. "Knights aren't supposed to be afraid."

"Thom says knights are people. The Baron says so too. People get scared."

"Thom listens to his grandfather too much. George doesn't like to argue with either of them." Alanna skirts the issue; knights are knights, harbingers of light and safety. That's all there is to it and digging into it will go into the mysteries of the world and Alanna likes the present. There isn't any use dwelling on things that shouldn't be bothered.

Kel reaches for another piece of grass, and abruptly the animals are silent. Alanna watches as a braid is fashioned, crooked and clumsy: the results of spending all of her time with swords instead of needles.

Regret does not come easily to Alanna, nor do apologies. But this time she admits it easily—she had been excited, elated even, that a child existed who _wanted_ the title of lady knight more than anything in the world. And to think that that child had decided it after seeing the Lioness in the flesh—that it had been _Alanna_'s presence that led to a girl scarring her hands before age ten and knowing more of bruises and hurt than poked fingers and powdered faces.

Kel doesn't see it this way at all. The one time Thom tried reasoning it to her, she'd just laughed and said she _wanted_ it, wanted to learn a bit more about the world. Sitting around and managing a fief wouldn't give her that. Alanna tried, later, and remembers the wide grin and wooden practice sword in Kel's hand as she requested a spar instead.

"I'm grateful, though." Kel doesn't look up from her braid and in the waning light Alanna can tell that her face isn't at all red. It's soft, a bit pale, the way it had been when Duke Baird had led her through Pirate's Swoop by the hand for the first time. "For…a lot."

There isn't a thank-you tacked on the end, not that Alanna expects nor wants it. She scoffs (the bugs start their evening melody again) and squashes the sentimental mood. "My choice. You just got dragged along, pageling."

"I doubt I'll be much shorter than you for long, sir," but there is a smile on Kel's face. They both realize (Alanna in that seldom visited corner) that moments like these, spent on a grassy hill with goddess knows what crawling around them, won't come again. Alanna regrets, maybe a little less than when the day began, but it's not her choice to make.

(And it's a bit easier to let Kel pretend than it is to say the words 'I'm sorry'.)


	4. Swordplay

**Title:** Swordplay  
**Word Count**: 710  
**Rating: **T  
**Characters**: Pages, Wyldon  
**Summary**: Merric _likes_ his ear. It's a very pretty ear, he'll have you know, and it's not that big either, just the right size unlike Fal's monstrosities.

**Disclaimer**: _Protector of the Small_ – not mine. Tamora Pierce's.  
**Notes**: So um. Yeah. I knew that writing high would die off eventually. Anyway—I bring you crack which is admittedly not that funny. I apologize in advance for the OOC-ness; I did this one without referencing Page (which was stupid on my part, but it's short) so the characters are noticeably…high. Eh. I'll go all angsty next time to make up for it. Hope you somewhat enjoy~ =D

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**Swordplay**

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"Mindelan." The Stump's voice is rather strained. "Stay…away from the lances. Just…_away_."

Kel flushes a dull red, reaching beyond the stacked lances for a blunted practice sword.

The other pages want to snicker. Really, they do. It's just that there's absolutely nothing to laugh about, because they're practicing with swords right now instead of lances (and if they'd been using lances, _then_ they would snicker to their little hearts' content) and it's become common knowledge that Kel of Mindelan is a freaking _juggernaut _when it comes to swords.

Well, no. Juggernaut might be putting it to an extreme, but most of them are sure it won't be long before The Girl becomes one.

A matter of time, you know. Because she'd been trained by the gods-defying _Lioness_ after all.

"They're petrified." Neal is, predictably, gleeful despite nearly having his hand lopped off by a miss from Seaver. Kel sighs and Merric (though he will deny it with every fiber of his being) just wants to run. It's not fair, he wants to scream. Kel is a girl—_the_ girl—and she is _not_ supposed to be…good. With swords. Because swords are _manly_, and Merric is manly (even if Kel stands an inch taller than him).

"Neal," Kel says, placating and not at all amused, "please, just…watch where you swing that thing. It's not _that_ blunt." Because Neal is flinging his practice sword all over the place and if he were any taller he'd probably scrape a cloud from the sky.

—Or something like that. Kel isn't one for pretty words.

"You know," puts in Faleron, "I think they're more scared of Kel when she's holding a lance. Because _that_ was a very, very terrifying day."

Kel feels a scowl coming on and Merric whimpers. It's not _her_ fault she can't hold a lance without managing to poke someone's eye out (it'd been a dog's, though Wyldon finally found a legitimate reason to hate her that day) just because the Lioness prefers swords to lances. Pointy, shiny things trumped pig sticks every time, she claims.

"I think," Neal says grandly, waving his sword in an arc, "that Kel is simply _marvelous_ because Joren and his drones haven't said a thing since that day."

"They haven't said a thing since our first lesson with swords," Merric corrects, finally giving up when Kel nearly spears his ear. Wyldon is shouting about not having a spine but Merric _likes_ his ear. It's a very pretty ear, he'll have you know, and it's not that big either, just the right size unlike Fal's monstrosities.

"_Maybe_," Kel says, flicking Neal's sword right out of his hand with a hearty glare, "we should actually _practice_. To become knights. Which is why we're here. In Corus. _Learning_."

Neal has a funny look on his face (he doesn't get shocked anymore by Kel's sword prowess; she sort of misses the wide-eyes and the gaping _'you-I-what the-Keeeellll' _sounds he made). He grins, abruptly, and if Kel were a poet (which she takes great pride in not being) she would have said his eyes were practically dancing.

"You know," he starts, slinging an arm around a pouting Merric's shoulders, "imagine if our lovely Kel _had_ gone with her family to the Isles."

The boys pause (Kel is sure Wyldon just had an aneurism, because he's coming over here awfully fast) and their faces shift from interested to confused to horrified.

"_No_," says Merric, shaking his head furiously. "No no no no _no. _Swords we can handle—swords are common. She'd be…waving around that giant stick of theirs. Just…no, Neal—and she'd be a statue! Like, all scary faced and stuff—not that your parents are like that," he adds, glancing at Kel quickly. She just smiles, turning away from the group to practice with Roald (good old Roald, thoughtful and _quiet_).

Oh, she's not mad. She's not.

It's just that Wyldon is horribly red in the face and he's screaming at the boys like they've somehow managed to kill a thousand dogs and horses in one go. Because those Cavall men, they get crazy about their dogs and horses. Simply crazy.

(And…she _does _get a sort of sick pleasure in beating the Crown Prince in swordplay. Alanna is probably laughing somewhere.)


	5. Mother Mother

**Title**: Mother Mother  
**Word Count**: 1,178  
**Rating**: T  
**Characters**: Baird, Ilane, Kel  
**Summary**: "Then you haven't been listening." Ilane almost smiles, her first in days. "She wants to become Lady Knight Keladry, not Sir Keladry."

**Disclaimer**: _Protector of the Small_ – not mine. Tamora Pierce's.  
**Notes**: Flashback heavy (and by that I mean italics heavy). The backstory and logic for Kel going to Alanna is in here, but I feel like…it didn't exactly come out right. Too much dialogue, I think. Also: the bit about two Gifts is my headcanon, even if Queen Lianne had like…a dozen people healing her. But then, they all _knew _what the other was doing, so…yeah. At any rate, hope you enjoy! :D

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Mother Mother

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"…I fell."

Duke Baird examines her nose, his cool fingers tilting her chin up. There's a cloud of purple blooming on the side of her nose, spreading to under her eye; the shape is remarkably similar to a human fist. Kel keeps her eyes downcast, and after a moment he pulls away.

"Nothing broken, though I'll assume my son had something to do with that." Kel tucks her head even closer to her chest. Baird sighs; Neal is a competent healer, but messing with another's Gift is a tricky business and Baird knows firsthand the results of two Gifts running rampant in a single body. "Your bruise balm—I recommended it to Sir Alanna, don't look so surprised—is the best solution right now. Come back tomorrow if you wish, after Neal's Gift is out of your system."

She nods, still not meeting his eyes like a sullen child. Jessamine, Baird thinks, exasperated, is much easier to deal with. A few words, a promise for new shoes and a ride on her father's mare and she'd run out of the room, a new spring in her steps. Kel is different, preferring to run around like a boy, and not for the first time Baird wonders if he made the right choice.

Even after his marriage he held a certain fondness for Ilane of Mindelan, though by then it had become more friendship than any kind of romance. It just made it ache all the more when Baird hadn't been able to heal her like he had so many others when she fell to an illness, so similar to the old queen's that Baird's hands shook as he delivered the final diagnosis.

"_There is nothing I can do," he says to Piers of Mindelan. The man's face tightens, white as a sheet, and then he nods, taking swift strides out of the infirmary. Ilane follows him with half-closed eyes, her youngest daughter asleep beside her._

"_Baird," is all she says—croaks, is more like it—and he stands the appropriate steps away from her bed. She coughs once, twice, and Kel stirs but a hand through her hair sends her to sleep. "…Piers is leaving soon. My children are going with him, all save the older boys."_

"…_I've heard," he answers, eyes on her sunken in cheeks. She seemed to get worse every time he walked in the room. "It's a very great honor, Ilane."_

_Ilane brushes away strands of fine hair from her daughter's face, saying absently, "This one has my height and her father's eyes. She's very adamant on staying here; she wants to become a lady knight, the first in centuries since 'Sir Alanna is a sir'." Ilane laughs but it comes out as a hacking cough; she waves Baird away with her free hand, regaining herself in seconds. "I've always been of the belief that children should do what they think is best, and Baird…the law has been in place for nearly four years."_

"_You…you can't be serious." He's heard, of course, that those on their deathbed are more prone to ridiculous words, but there are _reasons_ as to why no girl has stepped up for knighthood yet. "Sir Alanna is one of a kind—"_

"_Then you haven't been listening." Ilane almost smiles, her first in days. "She wants to become Lady Knight Keladry, not Sir Keladry."_

_His mouth opens, and then it closes. Baird is no conservative, though he's not much of a progressive either—he is thinking more of the sleeping girl, blissfully ignorant. "Piers is leaving," he repeats slowly. "Why bring this up now if she'll be in the Isles in a month's time?"_

"…_Because she won't be going to the Isles." Ilane stares right at him with impossibly dark eyes: the unpleasant reminder of her impending death. "I've spoken to Sir Alanna. She's hesitant, of course, but she's agreed. I think she wants this more than anyone."_

_Baird knows Ilane is no fool; her wit had been one of the reasons he danced with her in spite of his mother's pursed lips. But this, this is— "She's not yet four, and you've already decided her future based on a childish whim. What if she chooses _not _to be a knight? She'll be left with the Lioness with her actual family an ocean away!"_

"_I've spoken to Keladry about it, too," Ilane says, her eyebrow rising in a way that belies her half-dead body. Then, in a sudden bout of impatience, she says, "There isn't any _time_, Baird. Piers won't know what to do with her, and there isn't any guarantee that the treaty will be secured in time for her to properly begin her page training. Mithros forbid she have to start late on top of being female."_

_He shakes his head, so tempted to laugh but he's afraid it will come out hysterical. "You're lucky," he says at last, "that Sir Alanna cares so little for propriety. And that we've been friends for as long as we have, since I'm sure your plan involves me helping in some odd way or another."_

_Ilane is in the middle of a smile when she doubles over coughing._

"Your mother," Baird says, rousing himself from his daydreams, "wanted you to become a knight because of what you said as a child." Kel watches him with her brow furrowed; in the years she's known him, Duke Baird has only ever mentioned her mother once. "Is it—…are you alright with that?"

Kel busies herself with gently prodding at her nose, wincing at the sudden sparks of pain. Joren apparently doesn't care much for her sword aptitude as much as he once did, and he made the fact known rather viciously. It's when Baird is about to ask her again that she finally says in a matter-of-fact tone, "It's all I've ever wanted, Your Grace. My…my mother—I'm grateful for what she did. My father," she stumbles here, words faltering before picking back up, "he told me it was one of her last wishes."

The Mindelan family reunion had taken place just weeks before Kel arrived in Corus. According to Alanna, it had been similar to "a meeting of those stuffy conservatives on the council, but only worse because everyone was staring like the kraken decided to pop out of my stomach."

Baird fights down his smile and sets a hand on Kel's shoulder like he would on his own son's. "Your mother wanted you to be happy. If becoming a knight and…falling over every day is what you want, then who am I to disagree? There are others, however, that will whole-heartedly disagree with me and want to stab you with their silver forks, but I'm sure you've already met them. They tend to be the ones with the pig noses and sneers."

Kel laughs and Baird allows a faint smile. The situation is far from perfect to him, but he thinks as long as there are injuries that can be healed with simple words and flashes of bright light, he won't complain.


End file.
